Some Other Us
by dracoismyboyfriendguys
Summary: A series of one-shots based on my story 'Regrettably'. Or, alternatively, snapshots into a universe where Shelby helps to raise Rachel from the beginning.
1. And What Comes Next

_**A/N- Hi. This is the first of my one-shots based in and around the 'Regrettably' universe. Shoutout to pomatterpie for coming up with the title (xo) I guess it's not totally necessary to have read the main story, but if you do want to check it out... Anyway, some will be prequel, some AU etc. This one is set in the days following Rachel's birth and is canon with the main story (Shelby is sixteen and has been living with Hiram and Leroy during her pregnancy). I hope you enjoy! **_

* * *

Shelby rolls over in the narrow bed, pressing her cheek deep into the starchy pillow. One leg tangles in the tight sheets and a small grunt escapes her lips from the pain. She bites down, hard, on the inside of her mouth in a feeble attempt to reroute this discomfort, to distract her brain from the endless throbbing between her legs. Once more, she squeezes her thighs together before releasing them when a wave of nausea floods through her at the stabbing feeling. Whenever they're splayed apart, it hurts. Whenever they're pressed together, it hurts. Still, she keeps cycling between the positions, always hoping that the grass will be greener. Unfortunately, she seems to be in some kind of arid desert; the grass is brown and scratchy no matter what she does.

She _knows_ she should take the pain medicine the doctor had offered her last night. She knows that if she were to press the call button situated on the side of her bed, then a nurse would immediately appear and give it to her. They'd been trying to persuade her to take it all morning after all. During every hourly check, they'd reassured her that just a touch of analgesia would make her a lot more comfortable.

But she doesn't want to be comfortable. Or, no. That's not it. She would _love_ to be comfortable. She would love nothing more than to be lying on the couch in Hiram and Leroy's living room, watching mind-numbing television and eating chips from a bowl balanced on her protruding stomach. That's where she's supposed to be right now, where she was supposed to be for the next three and a half weeks. If she was there, doing that, then she would be comfortable.

But she's not.

Instead, she's lying in a hospital bed in the maternity ward, desperately keeping her eyes clamped shut to prevent the stinging tears there from streaming down her face. She's attempting to forget that the throbbing pain is coming from the perineal tear, and subsequent stitches, caused by her baby forcing her way into the world almost a month early.

Shelby wriggles again in the bed. Every inch of the bloated skin on her stomach taunts her with its duplicitous fullness and emptiness as it sags down into the sheets. Last night, when everyone had finally left her alone, she had pulled up her hospital gown and stared down at the wrinkled, pale mass. She hated it. Why was it still there? It was nothing but a horrible inconvenience that she could feel literally weighing her body down. Maybe once Ra-… Once the _baby_ had left that space, someone had put lead there instead. Only, that can't be true, because when she'd pressed a finger into the flesh, it had felt spongier than before. That's how she knows it's empty. _She's_ empty.

She rolls over again and immediately regrets it. The pungent smell of food floods her nostrils and it takes everything in her to keep her eyes shut as she gags. The nurse had brought her lunch in earlier, instructing her to eat as much as could. Shelby had nodded blankly; she was only responding because the woman had happened to catch her in one of the rare moments she dared to open her eyes. Otherwise, she would have kept up her charade of sleep. It had proved very useful so far: she didn't have to speak to Leroy when he came in earlier, she didn't have to accept the phone call from her brother, she didn't have to answer her doctor when he came in to assess her pain levels.

A baby cries somewhere.

It could be her baby- or, rather, the baby she gave birth to-but she really can't be sure. Tears sting her eyes again; some try to make a bid for freedom through her eyelashes. She wishes she could shut her hearing off like she's done with her sight. She's sure that would make things a little bit easier. The maternity ward is full of the sound of crying babies. That should hardly come as a surprise, but it still makes her puffy stomach squirm each time she hears it. Her whole body seems to respond in a way she hadn't expected; her swollen breasts and her heart ache with loneliness.

It _hurts_. Everything just hurts and, for whatever reason, the pretence of sleep won't give way to the real thing.

The baby is still crying.

Why won't someone just shut that damn baby up? Does it not have parents ready to dote on it and do anything to quell its sadness? Every baby should have that. She hopes, she _knows_, that the baby she gave birth to has that.

But the crying continues. In fact, it sounds like it's getting louder. It's all Shelby can hear. Well, that and the constant beeping of the stupid monitor above her head. She said she didn't need it; her doctor had disagreed. The beeps seem to fall into sync with the baby's desperate wails. Maybe those cries _are _from the baby that was living inside of her. Maybe her heartbeat quickening to match them is her only real maternal act. She's not sure what that means. Her eyes flick open and, if she tilts her head back, she can see the juddering line on the monitor shifting up and down. There's something soothing in the way it's gathering momentum.

"Shelbs?"

Instinct sends her gaze darting towards the door. _Fuck_. This is why she'd been so desperate to keep them shut. She meets Hiram's eyes for a moment, but the soft, sympathetic look pulsing out from them is enough for her to quickly stare blankly at the wall ahead of her. The empty whiteness there is almost as good as the backs of her own eyelids.

"Hi, honey," he continues quietly.

She hears him step further into the room, his shoes clacking against the linoleum floor. It's only now that she realises the baby has stopped crying. Its parents must have finally done their job. If only the one now sitting himself down on the chair next to her bed would do the same.

"I'm glad I caught you while you're awake," he says. The barely concealed skepticism in his tone makes her ball her fists up under the sheets, nails digging into palms. "How are you feeling? Well rested?"

Shelby rolls her eyes and lets out another grunt. This time, it's noncommittal, tainted with annoyance. Hiram sighs and scoots his chair closer to the bed. The metal legs scrape against the floor with a sharp squeak.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he asks. From the corner of her eye, she can see him peering cautiously up at her. "Are you in pain? Because your doctor told me that you weren't accepting any of the painkillers he was offering you. They might help, Shelbs. I don't want you being in pain."

She resists the urge to roll her eyes again. No matter how much pain she's in now- which, granted, is a lot- it's nothing compared to the agony she felt yesterday. The baby tore its way out her body. That's the only way she can really think to describe it.

And she's felt like that before, like her body had been torn in two. Four and a half years ago, she felt like that. Clearly, she didn't know what she was talking about back then. She knows she shouldn't be correlating the two events. That's wrong and disgusting and-

"And you haven't eaten your lunch," Hiram says, nudging the tray an inch or so towards her. The smell of the cold pasta overwhelms all of her senses. "The nurses told me you didn't eat your breakfast earlier, either. You need to eat, honey."

"No, I-" Her voice cracks from disuse. It's like a thick layer of dust has settled in her dry throat. She swallows hard and brings a hand out from under the covers to rub at her neck. "I'm not hungry. And I'm actually still kind of tired so-"

"_Shelbs_," Hiram says again. He reaches forward to catch her hand in his own. Shelby flinches, but still doesn't look up from the wall ahead of her. "You need to keep your strength up, honey, and not eating isn't going to help that."

"I gave birth. I'm not an invalid."

"I know that," he says evenly.

Shelby scoffs; of course _he_ knows that. He knows that because he's spent the last twenty hours with the baby she gave birth to.

"But," he continues, "it will help the healing process if you make sure that you're eating and sleeping well. Your doctor expressed some concern about that."

"Why is he even talking to you? Doesn't that go against HIPAA, or something?"

"Not exactly. Leroy and I are still your guardians and so they're allowed to pass your medical information onto us." He squeezes her hand gently as he speaks; she keeps hers lifeless in his grasp.

"Taylor will be here soon and he can sign the transfer papers," Shelby says blankly. "Don't worry, I won't be your problem anymore soon."

From the way Hiram tightens his grip on her fingers, she can tell she's said the wrong thing- said too much, revealed her weakness. This never would have happened if she was still pretending to be asleep.

"Is that what's bothering you, honey?" he asks softly. "Because you know we don't see it like that, Shelbs. You're not, and you never have been, a problem to Leroy and I."

"That's not what I meant," Shelby lies. "I just… Soon Taylor will be here and I can go with him and you guys can focus on the baby."

"We can focus on you _and_ Rachel at the same time."

"But you shouldn't be. I don't… Just focus on her, okay?"

Hiram gives a soft tug on her hand. "Look at me, Shelbs."

She quickly shakes her head. There's something about the softness in his voice which has brought the tears back into her eyes. She remembers reading something in some pregnancy book about how hormonal changes in her body would make her emotions crazy after birth. She'd naively thought that she would be able to control them, though. She _has_ to be able to control them. Nobody has time to be dealing with her right now.

"Shelbs?"

She shakes her head again, stare fixed on the wall. Would it be too much to just shut her eyes and feign sleep again? What would happen if she tried that?

"Shelby, talk to me, honey. _Please,_" he says, reaching his spare hand up to grasp her chin. As he tries to pull her face towards him, she jerks roughly away. The sudden movement causes a ripple of pain to cascade down her body. This does nothing to rid her of the hot tears brewing in her eyes. "What's going on? Please tell me, sweetheart."

"I just…" Shelby swallows the lump in her throat. "I just want to sleep."

Hiram sighs again. "Okay, sweetheart. I'll let you get some sleep, but I'll come back in a couple of hours to check on you."

"You don't-"

"I _want_ to," he says, leaving no room for argument. He stands from the chair and hovers over her for a moment. "Please make sure you do get some rest, and I'll ask them to bring you some fresh food for when you wake up, okay?"

_Absolutely not okay_.

"And a nurse wants to stop by later to show you how to use the breast pump, if you still want to do that? There's no pressure if you've changed your mind though, honey. You just let us know."

He pauses, waiting for a response that she can't bring herself to give. There's nothing she would rather do less than be taught how to pump milk for the baby, but she'd promised them she would do that. She'd done enough research to know that that's what's best for the baby, especially now she's come early and is so tiny.

She was _so_ tiny. Shelby had been sure that she was going to break her when the nurses pressed her into her arms. She'd passed her off to Leroy the second she could. He'd shown no signs of fear when holding her- it was just further proof to Shelby that she's doing the right thing. He had immediately taken to being and parent and she… Well, she'd had to go and get her stitches anyway.

"I want you to know that you can talk to me, Shelbs. Us. Leroy and I are both here and… well, we're worried about you, honey."

"Don-"

"I know you don't want us to worry about you, but we will. Always." He rests a hand on her shoulder and gives it an affectionate squeeze. "We love you so much, Shelbs. And I know this is a rough time for you. I'm sorry that it came sooner than we were all expecting and that it wasn't as simple as it could have been. But we're here, we're all here and we made it through. You're doing such a good job, honey. Just keep focussing on getting your strength back, okay?" She doesn't respond as he leans down to kiss the top of her head. "I love you, sweetheart. Sleep well."

Shelby stays in her stiff, half-upright position until she hears the door close with a gentle click behind him. Then, finally, she allows herself to flop down into the depths of the bed, silent tears streaming down her cheeks.

He's lying to her because he feels sorry for her and that hurts just as much as the physical pain. She's _not_ doing a good job; they wouldn't all be so worried about her if she was doing a good job. She's not doing anything. There isn't, can't be, any good in that.

Still, when the room is once again cloaked in a silence that's only permeated by steady, electronic beeps, Shelby finds her mouth opening.

"I love you too."

000

The early afternoon sunlight is abrasively bright. It pierces right through the net curtains and Shelby's tightly shut eyes. The darkness she craves is marred by the warm tone it injects into her blank field of vision.

She didn't sleep last night. For all her trying, it wouldn't come and she'd spent most of the night with her hands clamped over her ears to block out the sounds of babies crying. She could still hear it, though. Maybe it was all just in her head. It seems somewhat fitting that she's able to add the label of crazy to herself on top of everything else.

Leroy had come in part way through the night. She'd taken her hands away then, deciding that her insanity was something she could do with keeping to herself for now. She lay there, as silently as she could, as he lowered himself into the chair next to her and took to stroking her head. Eventually, his movements stilled and she heard his breaths evening out. A surreptitious glance over confirmed that he had fallen asleep. After that, she just lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling until the morning sun flooded into the room.

Then it was all bustling nurses bringing trays of breakfast, Hiram and Leroy both trying to make her speak -she didn't-, and more fake sleep. She's still working on the latter, but it's significantly more challenging now she can hear the conversation going on right outside her door.

"Any luck earlier?" she hears Hiram ask.

"Not really," Leroy replies. There's a pause and Shelby can only imagine the kind of looks they're exchanging. "I don't know what's wrong with her. I can't work it out… I mean, you should have seen the look on her face earlier when I suggested we bring Rachel by."

"I know," Hiram confirms. "She did the same to me last night. It got worse when I suggested that she could call Sean, just to let him know. I wasn't exactly expecting a great reaction to that, but I thought she might at least _say_ something… _Shout_ something. I can deal with the shouting, I just… I don't know how to deal with whatever _this_ is."

Shelby's teeth dig into her lip. She'd genuinely thought she was doing a better job at hiding her emotions than this. She isn't trying to be difficult; she's really just trying to make the transition easier for everyone. Now the baby is here, Shelby's job is done. Hiram and Leroy will take her home and Shelby will move in with her brother. The baby will have her parents and Shelby will have… Well, she'll have her brother. And that's fine. That's the plan. That's _always_ been the plan.

"I just can't understand it," he continues. "She's been so excited and now… Did we _do_ something? Did something happen?"

"Not that I'm aware of," Leroy says. "I feel terrible. I wish that she would just _talk_ to us. I don't know what we're supposed to do if she won't."

Another long silence follows. Swarms of guilt flood through Shelby's body, eventually coming to rest in the pit of her engorged stomach. She clenches her hand into a fist and smacks hard against it to dispel the feeling. The excess flesh ripples from the force of the blow. So she does it again. And again. And again. She does it until her whole body is aching and the space between her legs is throbbing uncontrollably. She's just glad that the curtains around the window to the corridor are still pulled tightly together from her stitches check earlier; Hiram and Leroy surely wouldn't react well to this.

But she can't stop. It's like her fist now has a mind of its own as it pounds repeatedly against her own body. Or maybe it doesn't. Maybe it's just trying to enact the wish in Shelby's head which is screaming that she wants out. She doesn't want to be in this body anymore- this body which is doing nothing for her except reminding her what she's lost. It doesn't even feel like her own. It should, she supposes. In a way, she's got it back- she's not sharing it now. But that's exactly what hurts so much.

Two days ago, she _was_ sharing it. It was _her_ body, but it was also her baby's. Her little star was happily swimming around inside of her and she _loved_ that. She loved it because, for the first time in a long time, it meant that she was loved. She did everything she could to protect and nurture the tiny baby inside of her and, with that, she was able to earn Hiram and Leroy's love and approval.

But what now? What does she have now? She just has disgusting excess flesh and stitches which are trying to hold her together and tears stinging her eyes and a heart which won't stop aching for her baby. And, apparently, she also has the responsibility of ruining what should be the best days of Hiram and Leroy's life. They have their baby now. _Her_ baby. No- _their_ baby. So they should be happy. They _would _be happy if only she wasn't there ruining everything. She's doing it again- she's destroying yet another family. This time, it's just as it's starting out.

She wants to tell them they should just go. They should take the baby home and go and never even think about her again. But she can't do that. The selfish part of her which she wishes would just disappear won't let her do that. Because if they did go, she would be destroyed. Now she's had a little taste of what being loved is like, she's not sure she can ever go without it again. And that's terrifying, because she seems to be doing everything in her power to make sure that that's _exactly_ how she'll end up.

Alone. Trapped in this stupid body that won't let her forget and all alone. The only other thing around her is the rapid beeping coming from somewhere above her head.

She doesn't want to be alone- she _can't_ be alone- but then why? Why is she acting like this? Why is she-

"Shelbs?"

Two sets of hurried footsteps echo into the room.

"Shelby? What's happening, sweetheart?"

She's not sure what's happening. All she can focus on is the repetitive motion of her fist against her stomach and the wetness coming from her eyes and running down her legs.

"Shit- she's torn her stitches. Call a nurse."

"On it."

"Shelbs? Shelby?"

She feels a strong hand wrap around her wrist, pulling it away from its mission to pound her stomach back into shape. And then there's another hand on her face, wiping the wetness away with gentle fingers.

"Shelbs? Can you open your eyes for me, sweetheart? Please, honey, just look at me. It's all going to be okay- you just need to look at me."

But she can't. All she can manage to do is listen to the frantic beeping.

"Shelby? Hiram, go get a nurse. _Now_."

000

The white wall has a small black mark near the left side corner. Shelby's been squinting at it for the last few minutes, trying to work out what it is. She's not sure at all. Why on earth would there be a black mark on an otherwise spotless wall? It doesn't make any sense.

"Shelby?"

It takes her a few seconds to blink herself back into the moment. When she does, her eyes travel slowly to the woman sitting on the chair near her bed. She's maybe in her mid-thirties, with cropped blonde hair and pink lipstick that's too bright for her pale complexion.

"What are you thinking about?" the woman asks. Her own, beady eyes move to the spot Shelby was staring at, but her puzzled expression suggests that she can't see the mark like the girl can. Or, at least, it doesn't seem as interesting to her.

"Who are you again?" Shelby asks in return.

The woman gives her a patient, understanding smile. It's nauseating. "My name is Laura. I'm one of the clinical psychologists here."

Shelby narrows her eyes. "Why are you here?"

"There was some concern expressed about your wellbeing," Laura says, her smile never faltering. "I'm just here to see what we can do to help you."

"Concern?"

"I spoke to your nurses and to your guardians-"

"Hiram and Leroy."

"Yes, I spoke with Hiram and Leroy, and they thought it might be useful for me to check in with you."

"They think I need a shrink?" Shelby asks.

"I'm not a psychiatrist, if that's what you mean by that," Laura replies. The same demeanour of the smile is conveyed in her soft tone. "I'm a cli-"

"A clinical psychologist, I got it," Shelby interrupts. "It's basically the same thing. They just send you when they think it's bad, but not bad enough for a real doctor to deal with."

"You sound like you've been in this situation before?"

"Did you not read my medical records?' Shelby asks, one eyebrow raised. "Or have people finally decided to embrace the concept of patient confidentiality?"

Laura presses her lips together. The vivid pink disappears for just a moment. "I did read some sections which might be relevant to our discussion."

"Oh good," Shelby says dryly. "I was worried that people might actually be starting to learn some respect."

"This isn't meant to disrespect you, Shelby. We all just want to make sure that you're okay, that we're helping you to take steps in the right direction."

"I don't need any help."

"Is that what you really think?" Laura asks. Annoyingly, her voice still isn't unkind and that makes it harder for Shelby to just shoot off another sarcastic response.

"I don't know," she mutters. "Clearly it's not what everyone else thinks. They all think I'm crazy, don't they?"

"Why do you say that?"

Shelby stares at her incredulously. "Non-crazy people don't usually get clinical psychologists sent round to check up on them."

Laura meets her gaze, watching her carefully for a moment. "Is that something which worries you? People thinking there might be something wrong?"

"They shouldn't be focussing on me," Shelby says. When she can't take anymore of that penetrating stare, her eyes flick down to the patterned fabric of her hospital gown. "They should be thinking about Ra-… About_ the baby._"

"You can't say her name."

Shelby scoffs. "Great observation. How many years of school did you have to go through to be able to catch that one?"

"A fair few," Laura says. She writes something down in her notebook and Shelby sinks further into the bed. She doesn't want to give anyone more ammunition to prove her mental instability. "Hiram and Leroy told me that you haven't seen her since the birth. Why is that?"

Shelby shrugs. "I'm on bedrest. There was a bad tear- I had to get stitches."

"But they could have brought her in here to see you. She's been out of the NICU for a day now."

Shelby's eyes shoot back up. "She was in the NICU?"

The beeps on the monitor increase in pace as Laura's perfect façade finally falters a little.

"I'm sorry," she says, "I assumed you knew that. But yes, she was in the NICU for her first night."

"B-but she's okay now?"

"She's just fine," Laura assures her. "She was kept in for observation because the doctors wanted to check that her lungs were properly developed. It's precautionary for premies."

"Oh." Shelby swallows, forcing the guilt she can feel raging in her stomach not to show on her face. "That's good."

"It is yes," Laura agrees. "Hiram and Leroy told me that they'd offered to bring her up to you. They mentioned that you had all discussed the possibility of breastfeeding her for the first few weeks. Is that something you're still intending on doing?"

Shelby shrugs again. "I don't know," she says honestly. "I don't know what's going to happen."

"Can you explain that to me, because I was under the impression that there was a plan in place for after the birth?"

_After the birth_.

It was always something which seemed so… distant. Unreal. And now it's here. It's here and her body is unrelenting in the reminder of that fact. But it wasn't supposed to feel like this. She was supposed to scoop her baby up in her arms and love her just as much as Hiram and Leroy clearly do. She wasn't meant to falter at the first step and cause her child to have to be in the NICU. The cavernous emptiness she feels wasn't a part of the plan at all.

Shelby's hand slips back under the covers, finding her stomach and pinching hard.

"Shelby?" Laura prompts.

"Everything's different now," Shelby says quietly.

"How so?"

Her fingers twist around a lump of flesh. She attributes the tears brimming in her eyes to the pain this causes. "They're a family now."

"And you don't consider yourself a part of that family?"

"I don't kno-" Shelby cuts herself off before she can finish, shaking her head. "I'm not, am I? They're out there getting on with things and I'm stuck in here and… It's fine. They're fine. They don't need me. They're the family."

"If they didn't consider you a part of their family, why do you think they would send me to talk to you?"

"I don't know," Shelby says again. "They probably feel bad."

"'Bad'?"

"Bad? Guilty? I don't know…"

"I get the impression that you all care for each other a great deal," Laura says. "Like I said, they're worried about you."

"But they shouldn't be!" Shelby snaps. She pinches hard on her stomach again- something about the pain is comforting. She knows it shouldn't be, but she can't help herself. _This is exactly why you're having to talk a shrink right now_. "I just… I really just need them to focus on the baby. I can… I can look after myself."

"You're sixteen, Shelby," Laura points out. "You shouldn't have to worry about looking after yourself."

Oh how Shelby wishes that was true. But she can't say that, so she just shrugs again. "It's fine. My brother's coming up from Columbus, I'm going to move in with him."

"And you're okay with that arrangement?" Laura asks.

"I don't really have a choice, do I?" Shelby says bitterly. Again, she catches herself. "I mean, I don't mind. My brother… Taylor… he's great. He's a doctor. We'll be fine."

"I'm sure you will be." Laura nods sympathetically. "Can I ask about your parents?"

Shelby stiffens, her hand clamping hard around her stomach. "What about them? I don't see them or speak to them."

"And does that bother you?"

"I…" Shelby bites down hard on her lip. _Yes_. She knows it does- of course it does. Maybe if she had parents who cared, then she wouldn't be speaking to a shrink. Maybe she wouldn't have had to cling on to two strangers for support. Maybe she wouldn't be so paralysed by the fear of being alone that she's trying to beat everyone to the punch. She flicks her gaze up to meet Laura's eyes. The look she receives in return tells her that she didn't need to say anything out loud; she's been heard loud and clear.

"I'm very sorry you've had to go through that," Laura says emphatically.

"It's fine," Shelby says, forcing an unbelieved nonchalance into her tone. "I guess some people just weren't meant to be parents." The moment the words are out of her mouth, she regrets them. Their veracity rings true with a pain that stings her deep down in her core. "I mean… I… I just know I want better for Rachel."

"You said her name."

"What?"

"You said that you want better for Rachel."

"Oh," Shelby says, a frown creeping up on her face. "Yeah, I guess I did."

000

"She looks like you."

"What?"

"Rachel. The baby. She looks like you."

Shelby looks up from where she's stuffing an old sweatshirt into her duffel bag. She's not quite sure how she's managed it from her resident position in bed, but somehow, all of her belongings are strewn all across the room. Taylor is supposed to be arriving today and, as long as her blood work comes back with no sign of infection, she'll be able to leave later. She doesn't want to delay that anymore than necessary and so, for once in her life, she's trying to get ahead of schedule with her packing.

An incredulous smirk appears on her face as she looks up at the blonde sitting up against the reclining top of her bed. "She's three days old, Cass. She probably looks like every other newborn."

Cassie grins slyly and waves a lazy hand in the air. "Yeah, she does. To be honest, they could have shown me any baby and I would have believed it was yours."

"Good to know," Shelby says. She directs her attention to trying to make sure the sweatshirt compresses enough so that she'll still be able to get the zip done up.

"Don't do that."

"Don't do what?" Maybe if she rearranges her sweatpants, it'll all fit.

"Deflect," Cassie says pointedly. As Shelby meets her gaze, she raises her eyebrows. "And don't even try to deny it, because I'm not buying any of your bullshit excuses."

Shelby does her best not to look like she's just been completely caught out. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Give me a break!" Cassie retorts, swinging herself round so that her feet meet the floor and fixing her friend with an intense glare. "You know exactly what you're doing and maybe everyone else is going to just accept it, but _I'm_ not."

Shelby frowns at her, dropping the sweatshirt back onto the bed and folding her arms across her chest. "I'm not _doing_ anything."

"Yeah," Cassie says smartly. "That's _exactly_ right. You're just sitting here and shutting everyone out who's trying to help you."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't I?" she questions. "Because I seem to remember you doing something pretty fucking similar when your eating got all messed up. Or how about the time when you wouldn't tell anyone what was going on with you because a part of you _knew_ that you were pregnant and you just didn't want to acknowledge that?"

Shelby's fingernails dig into her arms which are, of course, resting uncomfortably on her stomach. She takes a ragged breath, trying to calm her mounting anger. She really has no right to be angry, Cassie's only telling the truth, after all.

"Didn't your mother ever tell that you that if you don't have anything nice to say, you shouldn't say anything at all?"

Cassie scoffs. "Did _yours_?" She claps a hand to her forehead in mock-realisation. "Oh no- _that's_ right! I forgot that in the Corcoran household you just have to shove every emotion that isn't 'nice' down until it all just comes spilling out in the form of a mental breakdown."

Shelby recoils. It's too raw. It's too real. She had felt completely exposed earlier with her legs hoisted up in the stirrups as her doctor checked over her stitches. That's nothing compared to this.

"Fuck off," she eventually mutters.

She returns her attention to the sweatshirt, scrunching the fabric into a tight ball with far more force than is necessary.

"No."

Shelby sighs tiredly and glares back up at Cassie. "What?"

"I said, 'No,'" Cassie says, placing one hand defiantly on her hip. "You can push me away as much as you like, Shelbs, but I'm not going anywhere. Because we both know that you can't go on like this."

"Like what?"

"Like _this_!" Cassie shouts, using her free hand to gesture wildly towards her friend. "You look like crap. You're not eating, you're not sleeping, you're not _talking_. To _anyone_."

"I had a baby, Cass!" Shelby thunders back, throwing the sweatshirt down onto the bed. "Sorry if I'm not exactly the walking picture of health and beauty right now!"

"Yeah," Cassie nods. "You had a baby. You _have_ a baby- a baby that you're basically refusing to acknowledge."

"She's not mine! She's Hiram's and Leroy's."

Cassie narrows her eyes. "What are you talking about, Shelbs? Because all I've heard over the past few months is how _happy_ you are that you're still going to get to be in Rachel's life and that she's still going to be in yours. And now-"

"Now everything is different!" Shelby snaps. She rakes a splayed palm across her stomach, nails grinding through the thin fabric of her hospital gown. "I… She's not mine, okay? They're a family now and that's fine. That's good and I'm happy for them."

"Yeah," Cassie scoffs. "You look _just_ thrilled."

Under her watchful eye, Shelby attempts to rearrange her distraught features into a more passable expression. She pries her hand away from her abdomen and uses it to tuck some unruly hair behind her ears. It's damp from the shower she took earlier and the sweat gathering on her brow.

"I think you should go," she says lowly.

Cassie shakes her head. "Yeah, absolutely not."

"Just _go, _Cass. _Please_."

"Why?"

"I don't want you here."

"Why?"

"Just. Go."

"Are you scared if I stay that you might actually have to come out with it and tell me what the hell is going on with you?"

_Yes_.

"No." Shelby sniffs hard and turns back to her bag. "I just have stuff to do before Taylor gets here."

"What- you got a busy schedule? 'Shutting out friends and family at 3pm'? Is that it, Shelbs?"

Shelby shuts her eyes, heaving in deep breaths. "I'm going to ask you once more to just get out."

"And what about if I say no?" Cassie probes, face ablaze with defiance as she stalks towards her. "What are you going to do then? Huh?"

"I don't think you want to know."

Cassie lets out a cold laugh. "What? Are you going to hit me? Are you going to hit me, Shelby? What are you going to do? Because it doesn't look like you could do much damage right no-"

She stops speaking when Shelby's hairbrush smacks her in the face. For a moment, there's silence save for the clattering of plastic on linoleum and two sets of heavy breathing.

Cassie readjusts some of her blonde hair which had been caught in the missile's bristles. Then she turns to Shelby with a smirk. "Okay, guess you could do more damage than I thought, Corcoran."

Shelby scowls at her. "What?"

"Feel better?" Cassie asks lightly. "You can throw it again if you want."

When Shelby continues to simply look on in confusion, Cassie closes the gap between them and pulls her into a tight hug. She can feel her stomach pressing uncomfortably against her friend's body, but just for a second, it doesn't seem to matter so much.

Cassie eventually draws back and smiles sadly at her. "Look, babe, I can't even begin to imagine what you're going through right now. I know that and I get it. Truly. But you can't do this. You can't just shut down and lock us all out because you're scared. There are too many people who care about you."

"That's…"

"That's what? Not true? Because it _is_, Shelbs," Cassie implores. "It's _so_ true. And this time, we're not just going to give up and leave you alone."

"But they-"

"But nothing," she says firmly. "No one is leaving you, I promise."

Shelby casts her eyes downwards. "They're not?"

"Never," Cassie says. "When have Hiram and Leroy ever let you down, huh? When have _I _ever let you down?"

"I guess you haven't," Shelby admits.

"You '_guess_'?" Cassie scoffs. "Babe, I _know_ I haven't. And I never will. Not intentionally, at least. We're in this together- always. You and me against the world, yeah?"

"Yeah," Shelby sniffs.

Cassie rolls her eyes and reaches up to wipe at the tears now emerging from Shelby's eyes. "For fuck's sake, Corcoran. Don't get soft on me now."

"I can't help it," Shelby whines, batting her hands away. "It's these fucking hormones."

"Yeah?" Cassie grins. "You know why that is?"

"Why?"

"Because you just had a _baby_, Shelbs! A real-life actual, fucking _baby_. And yeah, she does kind of look like a cross between David Schwimmer and a wrinkled potato right now, but she's pretty cute."

"Is she?"

"'Course she is. She's _yours_."

"I had a baby," Shelby breathes out, a small smile finally tracing her lips. "I _have _a baby."

As the words leave her, she feels some of the weight rolling off her shoulders. Or perhaps more accurately, a weight seems to drop out from the pit of her stomach. She's a _mother_. She has a _baby_. She's not sure how well she's going to take to the role, but she has to _try_.

"You do," Cassie nods. "And once you get the all-clear from the doctor, you can stop moping around and go see her."

"You can," a voice calls from the doorway.

Both teenagers spin around to see Hiram leaning up against the door to the hospital room. Shelby hadn't even heard it open and she feels her grin falter a little on her face as she looks up at him. He's smiling, but it's not quite reaching his eyes.

"Can I borrow Shelby for a second?" he asks Cassie.

"She's all yours," the girl replies. She squeezes her friend's hand and then turns to leave the room, stopping right in front of the older man. "I got her nice and warmed up for you. Ripe for the emotional picking."

Hiram chuckles. "Thanks, Cassandra."

"Anytime, Mr. B." She turns and points a finger directly at Shelby. "Be good- I love you."

"Love you too," Shelby mutters towards Cassie's retreating form.

As soon as she's gone, Shelby lowers herself down onto the bed, staring down at her bare legs. Hiram seems different from the other times he's come in to see her; he's more… sombre? Maybe it's all too late. Maybe she's really pushed them too far.

"Hi, sweetheart," he says as he walks towards her. He cups her cheek gently before pulling the chair across to face her and sitting down. "How are you doing?"

Automatically, Shelby shrugs. Then she remembers that she's going to start trying now- at everything. She sniffs again and lifts her head up to meet Hiram's dark eyes.

"I'm okay," she says quietly.

"That's good," Hiram replies through that same, strained smile. Shelby can't work out exactly why it's there.

"A-are _you_ okay?" she asks after a moment, nerves beginning to settle in her stomach once more. "Is everything okay with th- with Rachel?"

A genuine smile cracks through when he hears her finally say her baby's name. "Rachel's fine," he says. "She's great actually. She just had a bottle of the milk you pumped yesterday and now she's napping."

Shelby gets a little burst of warmth at that; she _has _done something. Her baby is drinking her milk. That's got to count for something, right? Maybe everything is going to be okay, after all. Maybe-

"There's a couple of things I need to talk to you about, Shelbs," Hiram says seriously. Her blood runs cold, flushing that little reprieve right out of her veins.

"O-okay?"

Hiram sighs, leaning forwards to take one of her hands in his. "I need you to be very honest with me, okay? Nobody's going to get mad at you."

Immediately, she starts to wrack her brain for some kind of transgression. She knows she hasn't been very forthcoming or amiable over the past couple of days, but she's not sure exactly what kind of trouble she's in from that. But there must be something that she's done wrong. There's always _something_.

"Are you still okay with all of this, Shelby?" he asks, dark eyes searching her carefully. "With the arrangement?"

Shelby frowns. "What do you mean?"

"Are you sure you still want to go through with the adoption?"

She's sure if she was still hooked up to that stupid heart monitor, it would have stopped dead for a second. Then, she's certain it would have gone into overdrive.

"W-what?" She jerks her hand away from Hiram's, drawing back in on herself. "No… I mean, _yes_. Yes, I'm still sure. Is this- Is this about me? Because I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry, Hiram. I know I've been shit for… since the birth. B-but please don't do this to Rachel."

"Shelby, no," he says quickly. He reaches out for her hand again but it's already made contact with her opposite arm, nails bared. "No, that's not what I meant at all, sweetheart."

"You said you would take her," Shelby says. There are tears stinging her eyes again and, as she tries to blink them away, a couple roll down her cheeks. "You _promised_. I… I'll stay away if I have to but… _please_."

"We're not asking you to stay away, honey," he assures her. "We were just worried that you might be having second thoughts. You've been so sad for the past few days, Shelbs, and-

"I-I'm sorry," she splutters desperately. This is _all_ her fault. "I'm really, really sorry. But I swear I won't do anything bad. Just… _please_, you have to take her. You said you wanted her.

"We _do _want her, Shelbs. We want her very much, but we don't want to force you into doing something you don't want to do." He levels her with a serious expression that does nothing to quell her panic. "So, are you sure?"

"I…"

Her mouth has gone so dry and her heart is beating so fast that she can't be _sure_ of anything. Anything except this. Because she has to be. She _has_ to convince Hiram that taking Rachel is the right thing to do; she's got to make sure that, no matter what happens to her, her baby will be okay.

"Yes. I'm sure. I'm _completely_ sure." His face doesn't change as he nods slowly. "Please. Please don't leave her on her own. She's- she's only a baby- she's my baby and I don't want her to be all alone. Please just take her and…" _And then what?_ What happens then? "I'll be okay on my own but she's just a baby."

Hiram frowns in concern. "What do you mean, sweetheart? You're not going to be on your own."

"No." Shelby shakes her head quickly; she's got to keep it together. "No, I know that. I know that Taylor's coming and we'll be okay, but-"

"You're not just going to have Taylor," Hiram says firmly. "You've still got me and Leroy too."

"But… but you'll have Rachel and I already gave birth to her… and… I…"

As she trails off, biting down on her lip and digging her nails deeper into the skin of her arms, Hiram stands from the chair and moves to sit next to her. He shushes her softly and pulls both of her hands into his, squeezing tightly.

"That doesn't change things, Shelbs. I promise you," he says. "Is that what you've been worried about? You think that you're not going to have me and Leroy anymore?" When Shelby just shrugs, he sends her a sad smile. "That's not true at all, sweetheart. We still want you to be a part of Rachel's life. You're her mom and nothing is going to change that. You're a part of this family."

Shelby lifts a hand to wipe her eyes, temporarily blocking out the concerned gaze boring into her. _Family_. That's exactly what she's worried about. She's never done well in families.

"But I…" Her breath hitches in her chest. "I don't think I'm ready. I wasn't ready- she was _so_ tiny and… I didn't know what to do and I know that I'm just going to screw things up and…"

There are thick streams of tears running down her cheeks now; they're making it impossible for her to get her words out. Instead, she just sniffles pathetically, looking up at the older man.

"Okay, honey, it's alright. Take a deep breath for me," Hiram soothes, letting go of one hand so that he can wipe at her wet face. Shelby tries to comply, but her breath keeps getting caught somewhere deep in her chest. As her body begins to shudder under the weight of it all, Hiram wraps an arm around her and tries to pull her back against him on the reclining top of the bed. "Come here."

Shelby stiffens, shaking her head. "No. I'm all fat and I'll hurt you."

He sends her a small smile. "No you won't- come here. There we go." Adjusting their bodies so that she's curled up into his chest, he begins to run his fingers through her damp hair. Eventually her breaths begin to even out. "Better?"

"I'm sorry," she whispers. She feels ridiculous; she knows she's been acting like a stupid little kid for the past for days. Even so, her arms begin to subconsciously snake around his torso, pulling herself in closer to him.

"Don't be silly, Shelbs," he says gently. "You don't have anything to be sorry for."

One of his hands is now running up and down her back. When it gets close to her stomach, she flinches involuntarily. She tries to play it off as a natural movement, but she can practically hear the thoughts whirring round in Hiram's head.

"Is that why you haven't been eating? Because you feel fat?"

She shrugs, eyes trailing down to her stomach. "I just… I don't want to be like this anymore. She's gone and I- I already miss her _so_ much."

"She's not gone," Hiram says. "She's right downstairs. I can text Leroy right now and have him bring her up to you."

She looks back up at him hopefully. "Really?"

"Really," he confirms before raising his eyebrows. "On one condition."

"What?"

"You need to stop with the not talking to us," he says and Shelby shrinks back a little. "We're all going to have to come together to make this work, okay? And I know you're scared, sweetheart. I get it. But we're going to need you to communicate properly with us."

Her cheeks flush as she thinks back over the last few days. She's being given the opportunity of a lifetime, she knows that. She feels it every time she looks into Hiram's kind, dark eyes- ones that maybe, given her behaviour, should be filled with exasperation. She's got to get it together.

"Okay," she sniffs, nodding. "I'm sorry."

Hiram resumes his stroking of her hair, leaning down to place a kiss into it. "It's alright, sweetheart, I promise."

She feels him take a deep breath, and braces herself for whatever is going to follow. Whatever it is, she knows she'll deserve it.

"You also need to make sure that you eat, Shelbs."

Her heart sinks. A part of her wants to immediately jump up, run away, lock herself in a toilet and throw up the half of the sandwich she ate earlier; she'd managed to pawn some of it off onto Cassie. But a bigger- perhaps better- part of her is held steady by the man's soothing grip on her.

"I know you don't like your body right now," he continues, "but its just done _such_ an amazing thing. You brought our baby into the world and now, if you want to keep feeding her and making sure she's okay, you're going to need to keep taking care of yourself for two. So you have to eat."

She's silently mulling over his words when he takes a hold of her chin and forces her eyes to meet his. They're still kind, of course, but there's also a sternness there now. She realises he's deeply serious about this and sends him a firm nod. Then, she gives him a small grin.

"That's actually two conditions."

"Alright, my little smartass," he chuckles. "Will you promise me that you'll do those _two_ things- you'll talk to us and you'll take care of yourself?"

"I promise," she says sincerely. She leans back into the warmth of his body, thinking about what that _really_ means. "It's just… Never mind."

"Hey- you _just_ promised to talk to me," Hiram says, tapping her nose. "What is it, honey?"

She bites down on her lip; she _knows _it's a nonissue, really. But she did just say she would try to communicate more. "I don't like it when they bring the food right up to my bed," she whispers, turning away slightly. "That's… that's what _he_ did."

Hiram stiffens momentarily underneath her, letting out a long breath. "Shelbs, I'm so sorry, I didn't even think about that." She cringes at the emotion, the _pity_, lacing his tone.

"It's okay," she protests quickly. "You shouldn't have to… think about it. So it's fine. It's okay."

"It's not," he sighs. "_You_ shouldn't have to be thinking about that either. But hey- I spoke to your doctor and we can leave as soon as the discharge papers go through."

"Really?" she asks, excited for a moment at the prospect of _finally_ getting out of here. Then, as always, comes the hitch in the plan. "But… Taylor's not here yet. I… Where am I going to go?"

"I spoke to him a few minutes ago. He wasn't due to finish up in Columbus until the middle of next month so-"

"So what's going to happen to me?" Shelby interrupts, nerves already swishing in her stomach.

"Let me finish," Hiram says. "I told him that you would be very welcome to come back home with us."

Shelby frowns up at him. "Are- Are you sure?" That's not part of the plan. They're in the 'after the birth' phase of everything and her being at the Berry house is _not_ what's supposed to happen. "What about Rachel?"

"I'm sure Rachel won't mind taking the couch for a while."

"_Hiram,_" she whines. That particular whine had been a familiar feature all throughout her pregnancy and the older man smiles down at her.

"It'll be okay- you can do as much or as little as you like with her," he explains. "And it'll probably be useful for you pumping your milk and the doctor's follow-up too."

"And you're sure you don't mind?"

"Shelbs," he starts, squeezing her tightly, "there is nothing I want more in the world right now than to take my two girls home and make sure you're both safe and happy, okay?"

She returns the hug as a large smile plays across her lips. "Okay."

In their close proximity, Shelby feels Hiram's phone vibrate in his jeans pocket. She leans away from him for a moment as he pulls it out and looks down at the screen.

"Leroy's going to bring Rachel up now," he tells her. "They were just at the café across the street with his parents."

Shelby nods, but presses her lips together as her stomach squirms again. Yes, there's a definite flutter which she can put down to the anticipation of finally seeing her baby again. But that's more covered by the warm feeling in her heart. What's making her uncomfortable is something else entirely.

"Hiram?"

"Yes, honey?"

"Do you… Do you ever feel sad that your parents aren't here to see all of this?"

A silence follows while he shifts a little underneath her. Shelby's about to tell him to forget it, that she shouldn't have asked something so personal, when he takes a steadying breath and begins to speak.

"I don't know. Sometimes, yes. Sometimes, no. I just have to remind myself that it's not my fault that they're not here. They made the choice not to be involved. That's on them, not me."

She nods into his chest; she can understand that.

"Are _you_ feeling sad about that?" he asks after a moment.

"I don't know. Kind of?" She shrugs. "I just don't want Rachel to ever feel like… Like she might be all alone in the world, you know?"

Hiram sighs and drops another kiss into her hair. "She won't, Shelby. Never. Because she's got three parents who love her so much, right?"

"Right."

"And she's got Leroy's family, and Taylor, and I'm pretty sure Miss Cassandra almost shed a tear when she saw her earlier."

Shelby smirks. "Cassie cried? Really?"

"Or maybe it was just dusty out in that corridor," he laughs. "But Rachel definitely has so many people who love her."

"I love her so much," Shelby agrees quickly. "I know that… Well, I know I probably haven't shown that, but I was just-"

"I know, sweetheart," he reassures her. "I know. We all love her a lot and we're all here to make sure that she knows that. In fact, I think she very well might be the most loved little girl in the world. What do you think?"

"Yeah," Shelby breathes out, smiling widely. "The most loved little girl in the world."

The easy silence which follows is broken a few minutes later by a soft knock on the door. For a second, Shelby feels herself freeze at the prospect of what's to come. Her baby is on the other side of that door. She's _right there_.

"Are you okay?" Hiram asks her, sitting them both upright. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah," she says, gathering herself with a deep breath. "I'm ready."

And then Rachel is suddenly right in front of her.

She's still so tiny, but she's there and she's real and she's just so, _so_ perfect. Once again, Shelby feels her breath catch in her throat, but this time, it's in wonder, in awe, in _amazement_, that _she_ has managed to bring something quite this perfect into the world. Her baby is wearing a fluffy white onesie, adorned, of course, with a gold star pattern, propped up in her car seat. Big brown eyes seem to gaze curiously around at her new surroundings until they land on Shelby's smiling face.

Leroy places the carrier on the bed next to Shelby and leans down to press a kiss into the girl's hair. She gives him a brief smile, but quickly returns her fascinated gaze back to the tiny baby. _Her_ baby, her daughter. And _she's_ looking back at her mother with equally rapt attention.

"Can I?" Shelby asks, eyes darting up to the two men who both nod their approval. Hiram has wrapped his arm around Leroy's waist and they both watch on with broad smiles.

Carefully, Shelby undoes the clasps keeping her daughter secure in the seat and gently pulls the baby into her arms. Rachel gurgles a little at the movement, but her wide eyes never show any sign of distress. Shelby stares down at her through the fog of tears now clouding her eyes. She's _so_ perfect. Every inch of her face is the most beautiful thing she's ever seen and she knows for a fact that she will spend the rest of her life trying to love and protect her in any way she can.

"I think she knows you, Shelbs," Leroy says softly. "She screamed the roof down when my mom tried to hold her earlier."

Shelby's not sure whether she believes him but, for now, she'll take it. She grins down at her daughter, gently tracing her fingers over the baby's tiny features.

"Hi, Star," she whispers. "I missed you so much. Have you been being good for Dad and Daddy? I bet you've already got them wrapped around your little finger, haven't you, baby?" She glances up at the two men somewhat self-consciously before continuing. "I'm sorry I wasn't around for a little bit, Star. But I promise you, I'm here now and I'm always going to be here. I love you so much, my sweet girl." Rachel's mouth opens wide in a yawn and Shelby smiles as she leans down to press a kiss on her forehead. "Are you tired, babe? You try to get some sleep and I promise I'll be right here when you wake up."

* * *

_**A/N- Hope you enjoyed! I have several ideas for these so far, but I'm definitely open to prompts/suggestions so feel free to send those my way! **_

_**Would love to know what you thought xo**_


	2. Storms Can Always Be Weathered

**_A/N: For J. Happy birthday. I love you more than more than anything._**

**_This is a Regrettably AU. Rachel is eight (going on nine lol) and Shelby is 25. Enjoy!_**

* * *

"_Wow!_" Rachel exclaims, leaning against the leg of the couch with a reverent sigh and shaking her head in complete amazement. "I… You… _Ugh_. Mom… You're just… _sooo cool!" _

On the other end of the video call, Shelby can't fight the large grin that spreads across her face at the sight of her usually verbose child struggling to find her words through her awestruck smile.

"Yeah?" she prompts - never one to shy away from adulation, most especially when it comes from her daughter. "You think so?"

"I _know_ so," Rachel confirms, eyes still glistening with admiration. She shifts slightly, pulling one knee up from underneath her and wrapping her own arms tightly around it. "You're really going to be on _Broadway, _Mom! This is… It's _huge!" _

"You've known about it for a while now, Star," Shelby reminds her.

Rachel shakes her head again. "But it's _different _now, Mom," she says matter-of-factly. Shelby raises her eyebrows and waits for what she's sure will be a detailed explanation. "Now… Now you're really, really going to rehearsals and trying on _real_ costumes and… _Ugh! _You're just _so_. _Cool._"

"I'm glad you think so, baby," Shelby laughs.

And she is. She'd thought that nothing could top the elation she'd felt when she'd received a call from her agent letting her know that she'd been cast as Fantine's understudy and an ensemble member in the Broadway revival of _Les Miserables. _Her Broadway debut - it's what she'd been fantasising about for as long as she could remember. It was the thing that had kept her going through countless hours of training as a kid; the dream that she'd worked so hard to revive after everything happened with Rachel's birth; the singular notion that kept her focussed through long nights in New York when all she'd really wanted was to be back at home with her baby. Being told that all her hard work had finally, _finally _paid off was incredible.

However, none of that had prepared her for how extraordinary it would feel to tell the three people she loves most in this world her news. She'd stopped Rachel from immediately running off with the iPad during their usual FaceTime session and, instead, had asked her to call both her dads into the room so that she could make the announcement.

Hiram had immediately burst into tears, of course, and had become an inconsolable mess of pride. Leroy had sat in shock for a few, long seconds before passing a box of Kleenex over to his husband. He'd then sprung into a lengthy monologue about how they _always_ knew that she could do it and how she was simply the most-talented and driven person any of them had ever come across. Rachel, who had been sitting on her daddy's lap, had jumped up onto the couch like the news had passed an electric current through her legs. Through the mess of everything going on in the Berry's living room, Shelby had only been able to catch snippets of her excitedly shouting about how she couldn't _wait_ to tell everyone at school. And at her music and dance classes. And on her bus. And the postwoman.

Back in her New York apartment, Shelby had simply watched with a huge smile playing across her lips and a few tears stinging in her own eyes. She'd done it, and she got to tell her family that she'd done it. _Nothing_ compared to that feeling.

"Tell me about the rehearsals again!" Rachel says, practically bouncing up and down in her excitement. "Oh- and the other actors! Are they nice? Are you all friends? Have you met the girl playing young Cosette? Are you _sure_ I can't audition? Wait!" She stops suddenly, before Shelby has even had a chance to think about replying and pushes herself up off the floor. The shaking camera shows her running through into the kitchen. "I wrote a list with all of my questions!"

"Calm it with the running please, Star," Shelby hears Leroy's voice call from somewhere in the distance.

"Sure, Daddy!" she shouts back, though does nothing to slow her scuttling pace.

"Rach, calm down, love," Shelby says, raising her voice slightly in the hopes of being heard of Rachel's clattering footsteps. "You're going to hurt yourself running around like that."

Rachel pouts as she comes to a halt, which, naturally, involves her slamming the entire weight of her small body up against the kitchen wall. "I just wanted to show you my list," she says dejectedly, holding up a white notebook covered in gold stars. "I was working on it earlier."

Shelby, as she always does, pouts in sympathy with her daughter. "You can show me your list, honey. But quickly, okay? You've got about fifteen minutes until bedtime."

"What?" Rachel's mouth gapes open. "B-but, _Mommy_," she whines. "I can't do it _quickly!_ I have-" she opens the notebook and hastily flicks through the pages as best she can with one hand- "seventy-nine questions!"

Shelby can't help her snort. She sobers quickly when Rachel's pout deepens. "Sorry, Star. I'm happy that you're so interested. But you said you did this earlier? Weren't you meant to be working on homework earlier?"

"Um," Rachel stalls, refusing to meet her mother's eyes through the camera lens. "Kind of… But this is _Broadway_, Mom! Plus, they're not all my questions. Jesse from ballet gave me some to ask you too! And-"

"Okay, okay," Shelby sighs, smiling at her ever-exuberant little girl. "How about we make a deal? I'll answer a few of yours and Jesse From Ballet's questions every night, and then I promise whatever we don't get around to, I'll answer when I see you next weekend, okay?"

Rachel bites her lip in deep thought before nodding. "I guess that works." She sets the iPad down on the table and then scoots into a chair, using one finger to scan through her list of questions.

"Okay," Shelby repeats. She watches for a moment before breaking out into a sly grin. "Hey, Rach?"

"Yeah?"

"I can't quite remember _why_ I'm coming up to see you guys next weekend," she says nonchalantly. "Is it a special occasion?"

"_Mom_," Rachel groans in exasperation. "You _do _know why."

Shelby shakes her head innocently. "Nope, I think it's slipped my mind…"

"You're not funny, Mom," the girl says crossly.

"I'm not trying to be! I just _really _can't remember…"

Rachel shoots her a deadpan look. "It's my _birthday_, Mom."

"Oh, _yeah_," Shelby says, clapping a hand to her forehead. "I can't believe I forgot that my baby girl is turning _nine_!"

"I'm not a baby," Rachel protests.

"No," Shelby acquiesces, swallowing the lump rapidly forming in her throat, "I guess you're not, my big girl."

Rachel frowns at that equally babyish assessment and begins to unload her questions onto her mother. She only squeezes in two more not-so subtle appeals to be allowed to audition for young Cosette, so Shelby takes it as a win. After ten minutes, a lot of pouting and a promise for a bedtime song, Rachel eventually delivers the iPad to her dads and morosely climbs the stairs to get ready for bed.

"Hello, hello," Shelby grins as Hiram and Leroy's faces come into view. "It's me- world's worst mother because I want my child to get a decent night's sleep before school." Neither of them smile. In fact, they're both also fixing her with deep pouts. "What's going on?"

"We're mad at you," Hiram tells her.

"Okay?" Shelby frowns. Now that Rachel's gone, she reaches for the glass of wine on her nightstand and takes a slow sip. "For any particular reason or…?"

"'_Oooh Mom is _sooooo _cool!'" _Hiram gushes in a high-pitched tone.

"_'Did you know Mom's at a real Broadway rehearsal today?'_" Leroy continues. "_'She's just the coolest person ever!_'"

Shelby laughs loudly and shrugs. "What can I say? It's not my fault that Rachel's got impeccable taste."

"She used to think _I _was cool," Leroy says wistfully. "I remember when she fell over because she was walking around in my work shoes. Those were the days…"

"Oh, yeah," Shelby nods. "I just love it when our kid gets injured too. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside."

"Like, don't get us wrong, Shelbs," Hiram continues, ignoring her. "Every single time I think about it, it is like my heart bursts into a thousand small pieces that all scream, 'I'm the proudest man alive!' but…"

"But we thought we'd have at least a couple more years until Rachel realised that you're the 'cool one'," Leroy finishes.

"Oh, _please_," Shelby scoffs. "I've _always_ been the cool one. We all have our roles, right? The cool one," she says, pointing at herself before turning her finger on Hiram. "The overly-emotional one." He jerks backwards in outrage while Leroy nods his agreement. "And the semi-competent one," she concludes, gesturing to Leroy.

"A trio like never there was," he grins. "And one which I, personally, am highly anticipating the reunion of."

"Right," Shelby says. Her stomach flutters a little at the thought of it. She really does try to make it back to Ohio at least once a month to see them all, but her schedule is so packed at the moment that it's been almost seven weeks since she was last able to. "I have rehearsal until five on Friday, but I'll go straight to the airport after. Cassie's going to pick me up in Columbus and we should be with you sometime late evening."

"I can't wait," Hiram says genuinely. "And you know that Little Miss Rachel has been more excited about you coming than her actual birthday."

"Yeah?" Shelby asks, her face dropping a little and a familiar feeling of guilt nestling itself deep in her stomach. "I miss her so much, too. All of you. It's been so long, I know, I just-"

"Hey," Leroy interrupts, shaking his head, "you're juggling a lot right now, Shelbs. We understand completely, and I know Rach is trying her best to as well."

"I know," she sighs, trying to stop herself from falling into her age-old internal debate about where she should be and what she should be doing.

"You look nice, honey," Hiram says, diverting the subject. "Just got in or going out?"

"Going out." She grimaces. "I'm exhausted, but April's singing at this bar tonight and I promised I'd be there."

"Oh, nice," Leroy nods. "And… uh… you're just going with some friends, are you?"

Shelby rolls her eyes; she knows already where this is heading. "Yup."

"That boy you've been seeing isn't going?" Hiram asks in what she's sure is supposed to be a casual manner.

"'That boy' is a thirty-year-old man named Adam," she says pointedly. "But no - he's not going. We actually ended things last week."

"Oh," he says, "I'm sorry to hear that, Shelbs."

"No you're not," she laughs, raising an eyebrow at both men. "You both hated him, despite knowing next to nothing about him."

"Only because you wouldn't tell us anything!" Hiram complains.

"Only because you always get like this," she counters knowingly. They both squirm a little and she shakes her head with a chuckle. "It's fine. I was never really invested in it."

"Which is good," Leroy says, "because I don't think either of us ever got good energy from him, did we, Hiram?" His husband nods solemnly in agreement.

"Well it's a good job neither of you were sleeping with him then."

"Shelby, don't," Hiram gasps, throwing a despairing hand over his chest. "I can't… The thought… It doesn't sit well with me at all."

"Wait? You mean you _don't_ want to hear about my sex life?"

"I'd rather you didn't even know what a sex life was."

"Oh yeah," Shelby grins. "I'd forgotten that Rach was the second immaculate conception."

"_I'm ready!_"

"And there's our little miracle herself," Leroy says.

Shelby exchanges goodnights and 'I love yous' with them both before he picks up the iPad and carries her up the stairs to Rachel's room. Like always, Shelby drinks in the sight of her daughter's space; sometimes, she has to pinch herself to remind her that it's all real.

"You know the drill, Star," Leroy tells the girl, holding the device just out of her reach. "A chapter of your book, goodnights with Mom and then we'll come to collect the iPad, okay?"

"Okaaaaay," Rachel sighs. "But! Well, Daddy, I'm almost _nine_. I think you can trust me enough to put it away and go to sleep on my own now."

Leroy taps her nose. "No chance, kid. Remember when Dad forgot and we found you at eleven o'clock on YouTube watching old Tony performances?"

"B-but, Daddy! I was just… Fine," she grumbles at the look on Leroy's face. "You can come and collect it."

"Oh, very generous of you." The camera shakes as he leans down and pulls his daughter into a tight hug. "I love you, Star. I hope you have the sweetest dreams ever and I'll see you in the morning."

"I love you more."

"And I love you the very most."

Once he's left the room and Rachel's sitting up against her headboard, Shelby reaches for her copy of Rachel's current book - something she's been doing for years now.

"Chapter eight, right, Star?"

"Right, Mommy," the girl yawns, leaning her face down into her pillows.

"Okay," Shelby says, flicking to the right page, "let's get you ready for a good night's sleep, baby."

"_Now life has killed the dream, I dreamed,_" she finishes twenty minutes later. She's not sure what she makes of the rather depressing lullaby, but Rachel seems content, a sleepy smile crossing her lips.

"Mommy?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"You really promise you're coming back for my birthday?"

Shelby smiles sadly, hating that she has to reassure her this much. "I really promise that I'm coming back for your birthday, Star."

000

"Oh- and what does the rehearsal room look like?"

Shelby shakes her head good-naturedly as she hurries down the busy street on Friday morning, phone pressed to her ear. All week long, she's been treated to numerous phone calls from her daughter; she's sure the girl (and maybe Jesse From Ballet) must have been adding to the initial list. It definitely feels like it. Still, she knows she could answer a million questions from her and never get bored.

"It's just a big studio, Star," she says, dodging an older couple who have stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk to consult a map. "Kind of like the ones for your dance classes, but super big so that the whole cast can fit in there when we need to."

"_Wooooow_," Rachel breathes - her usual enamoured response to any of these questions. "What scene are you doing today?"

"We're doing the innkeeper scene and _Master of the House_."

She's sure she hears Rachel almost choke on her morning cereal. "Mom!"

"That's me."

"That scene has young Cosette in!" the girl exclaims.

Shelby grimaces slightly; she definitely has doubts as to whether her eight-year-old should really knows the ins and outs of such a mature show. But it's not all her fault - her dads had been there when they'd all watched the movie several times on repeat last Christmas.

"That's right, my love," she replies with no doubt in her mind as to where this is going.

"If young Cosette doesn't show up, you should call me and I can fill in on speaker phone!" Rachel gushes. "I already know all the words and everything, Mom!"

"I don't doubt that you do, honey," Shelby chuckles before Rachel can attempt to prove her declaration. "But you'll be at school, remember?"

"Oh yeah." She can practically hear Rachel deflating. "But maybe Daddy can call me out for today! Just in case, you know?"

"Oh, I know," she says, smirking. "But, firstly, that's a hard no from me, and, secondly, if you were going to ask either of your dads to do that, Rach, then Dad is definitely the way to go." She comes to a stop outside a large building and checks her watch - for once, she's just about on time. Catching her breath for a moment, she leans up against the brick wall. "I gotta run, Star. Have a good time at school today and behave, okay?"

"I always behave!" Rachel defends. Her mother can just imagine the kind of outraged face she's pulling.

"Sure you do." She waves at a couple of cast-mates as they let themselves in the main entrance. "Listen, Rach, I won't have time to call after rehearsal, but I'll come and tuck you in as soon as I'm home tonight, okay?"

"Okay," Rachel says. "Can I wait up?"

"I'm probably going to be pretty late, baby," Shelby sighs. "But we can hang out all morning tomorrow while we're setting up your party?"

"Okay," the girl says again. "Because you're coming, right? You promise you're coming back for my birthday?"

"I promise," Shelby assures her for the hundredth time that week. "I'll be there before you know it, Star."

After hanging up, she reaches into her purse to retrieve her key card. Of course, it's somehow wormed it's way right to the bottom and she has to fish through the miscellaneous crap dumped in there to extract it. Her triumphant nod at doing so is cut short when she feels a large drop of rain land on her forehead. It meanders its way down her and face and, sighing irritably, she casts a look up at the thick, grey clouds overhead. One thing she'd noticed missing from her purse is her umbrella. _Typical_.

000

By six o'clock that evening, she's about ready to throttle someone. Rehearsal had run over, and she'd spent a painful extra fifteen minutes in the stuffy studio, glaring pointedly between the micro-managing director and the ticking clock. When she'd finally torn her way out of the building and stepped out onto the bustling street, the forgotten umbrella seemed even more ridiculous. It would have been like putting a bandaid on a bullet wound, anyway. The rain was pouring down from the sky like it had a personal score to settle with someone; each drop rebounded into the air with a vengeance when it slopped down into the awaiting puddles. Thick, fast rivulets were forming alongside the entire length of the curbs which, naturally, was where Shelby's wallet found itself as she slung herself into the first cab she managed to find.

"_Fucking fuck_," she'd groaned, fishing it back out and trying to shake off the grimy water. The driver, already looking rather perturbed by the amount of water she'd brought into his car with her, had scowled when she added an, "And quickly, please!" at the end of her address.

"Oh, that's weird," he'd quipped sarcastically. "Everyone else always wants me to drive as slowly as possible."

Shelby had ignored him and continued to wring out her hair, which was soaked from the few minutes she'd spent outside.

"Bag, jacket, umbrella, wallet. Bag, jacket, umbrella, wallet," she mutters under her breath as she frantically snatches up her possessions from around the small apartment. "Bag, jacket…" _Where the _fuck_ is her umbrella?_ "_April!_"

The blonde emerges from her bedroom with a raised eyebrow. "You bellowed?"

Shelby glances up from the coffee table where she's triple-checking that she has her flight details printed and ready to go. "Can I please, please borrow your umbrella?" she asks. "Mine's fucked off somewhere and I'm running late and I need to get to the airport and-"

"The airport?" April interrupts with a frown.

"The airport," Shelby repeats exasperatedly. "It's Rachel's birthday tomorrow, remember? I'm-"

"Yeah, I remember," she says, her face contorting. "Um, Shelbs, have you checked the news?"

"What?"

"I… uh… I heard something about them grounding all flights earlier. Something about the storm, I think…" she trails off, glancing out of the window where the rain is running down in a thick sheen across the glass.

"_What?_" Shelby repeats. She stands and sends her friend a murderous glare. "You knew that earlier today and you didn't bother to tell me?"

"I was going to, Shelbs, I swear," April says quickly. "I was, but I thought you would have heard and I got distracted."

"Distracted doing what?" Shelby snaps, her frustration rising rapidly through every inch of her body.

Suddenly, both of their gazes are drawn to April's bedroom door when a tall, shirtless man shuffles out. He shoots Shelby a weak smile which she doesn't bother to return before turning to April.

"Uh… bathroom?"

"Right through there, sweetcheeks," she says, pointing to the door next to Shelby's bedroom. As soon as it shuts behind him, she turns back to face her friend with a guilty smile. "Um… Distracted doing that."

"Ugh!" Shelby groans, one hand coming up to rake through her hair. "What the hell am I going to do? I _need _to get there before tomorrow, April! I _promised_ Rach I would be there."

"I know," she replies, taking a few tentative steps towards Shelby. "We'll figure it out, I promise." She pauses for a moment, eyes narrowed deeply in thought, before cocking her head. "How do you feel about trains?"

000

Shelby has always, and will always, maintain that hell must be a bigger, hotter version of Penn Station. The braindead crowds and aimlessly wandering tourists never fail to make her blood boil and, right now, she's sure anyone would be able to grill a full-course meal with the heat emanating out from her veins.

She cranes her neck, trying, in vain, to see whether she's any nearer to the front of the line. The ticket windows remain a far-off finish line, an oasis in the distance that seems more and more like a mirage with every passing minute. Two hours and she's sure she can't have moved forward more than fifteen feet, despite the line becoming increasingly compressed in tandem with the rising impatience of everyone around her.

She's worked a fair number of crappy customer service jobs over the years; she knows what it's like, but even she's beginning to doubt the mental capabilities of the people working the windows. How hard can it be to hit a few buttons, take someone's money and send them on their way with a ticket? Her instincts suggest it would be pretty easy; the time she's spent waiting for them to do so tell her otherwise.

Every so often, her hand twitches towards her cell phone as her brain whirs back and forth over whether or not she should call Hiram and Leroy. She'd wanted to wait until she could give them a constructive solution on how she's planning to make the five hundred mile journey in a night. Another forty-five minutes later, she concedes defeat.

With shaking hands - whether from frustration or anxiety, she's not sure - she slides it out her back pocket and hits 'call' on the Berry home phone.

"Hello?" Leroy's voice answers after just three rings. Shelby glances at her watch; she's most likely caught them right in the middle of their Friday night movie.

"Hi, it's me," she says, kicking her bag and jacket forward with her feet when the line shuffles forwards fractionally. "Don't say my name if Rachel's around." She hears a slight shuffling and then the clicking of a door.

"She fell asleep on the couch," he explains. "I think her plan was to try to wait up for you, but she's been so excited this week that she's barely slept."

Shelby feels her heart tearing in two right down the middle. She knows that Rachel's a kid and that she'll be having the usual pre-birthday flutters of excitement, but she's also aware of how her daughter has been latching on to any contact time she has with her even more intensely than normal. Her kid misses her. She promised she'd be there. She _has_ to get there.

"Shelbs?" Leroy prompts. "Are you okay? I would have thought you'd be on the plane by now? Is your flight delayed?"

Shelby sighs deeply. "Try cancelled," she mutters.

"What?" Leroy asks. "Shelbs, I can barely hear you. Where are you, honey?"

"I'm at the fucking station," she says, raising her voice a little to cut across the deafening clamour of the packed space. The two men in front of her in line turn and send her a disparaging look; she glares right back. The time for niceties has long since passed.

"The station?"

"Yeah," she says, "the station. My flight out got cancelled because of this freak storm we're having." She lets out a humourless laugh. "A fucking tropical storm in May and people _still_ want to pretend that climate change is a hoax."

"Oh, Shelbs," Leroy sighs. "Are you okay, honey?"

"I'm fine," she tells him. It's halfway true; there's nothing physically wrong. "I've been waiting here for a couple of hours trying to buy a ticket out. We looked online and everything said I had to come down and do it in person. I hadn't really accounted for every other person in the city also being given that information."

"So your aim is to get on a train tonight?"

"It's not an aim," she scoffs. "I'm doing it. But I obviously won't be arriving any time soon so I thought I should let you know. Cassie's already agreed to drive up to Toledo to get me in the morning - you don't even want to _know_ what I've had to bribe her with to do that - so we'll be there in time for the party, but probably no earlier. I'm so sorry, Lee, I-"

"Don't apologise, sweetheart," Leroy cuts her off. "This isn't your fault and it sounds like you're doing everything you can to get here."

"Yeah," she replies. She's already spent the whole evening berating herself for not checking the weather, for not having a just-in-case back up plan sorted, for not making the decision to call in sick to rehearsal today and get on an earlier flight. "I am, I promise."

"I know," he assures her. "But, if for whatever reason you can't get here, Shelbs, we'll understand."

"No," she says firmly. "That's not happening. I'll get there."

"But if you can't then-"

"Then Rachel's whole birthday will be ruined and it will be entirely my fault." She shuffles forward again with the line as Leroy sighs heavily down the phone. "Look, I made a promise that I would be there, so I'm going to be there."

"Okay, honey," he says, clearly recognising that he's not going to change her mind on this. "Let us know if there's anything we can do to help and don't worry about money - we'll cover anything extra you have to pay-"

"You don't need t-"

"That's not up for discussion."

"Fine," she says. "Thank you."

"It's nothing. You just focus on doing whatever you can to get here and stay safe, okay?"

"Okay." The line moves forward again and, much to her surprise, she realises that she's somehow made it all the way to the front. "Lee, I have to go. I love you. I'll keep you updated."

"Please do and-"

"Next!" a burly woman at a window to Shelby's left calls out.

"Bye. Love you," she calls down the phone before scrambling to shove it back into her pocket. Quickly, she bends down to grab up her bag and jacket, fumbling a little in her haste.

"She said 'next'," an annoyed male voice snaps from behind her.

Taking a deep breath and trying to convince herself that hitting someone over the head with her bag _won't _be a conducive step in getting home to her daughter, she turns and flashes the man an irritated smile.

"Yeah, I heard. Thanks."

She shakes her head as she bundles herself and her belongings over to the open window. The universe is seriously, _seriously_ testing her today.

"Hi," she greets the woman. "Can I please get a one-way ticket to Toledo?"

The woman sucks in a deep breath through her teeth and shakes her head. "For tonight?" she asks, tapping away on her keyboard.

"Yeah," Shelby says. A swell of anxiety floods her stomach. She's made it this far - she's waited in line for God knows how long. Things can't fall apart now. She's getting on that train.

"Well, you're not getting on a train tonight," the woman says when she looks up from her computer.

"_What_?"

"Yeah, it's all booked up. Sorry." The bored look on her face doesn't suggest that she is, in fact, sorry at all.

"It's a train!" Shelby says, trying and failing to temper her anger. She can feel it building up in her shaking hands and reddening face. "How does a _train_ get 'all booked up'?"

"Safety regulations," the woman shrugs. "A lot of people have been coming in here tonight trying to get out to all sorts of places."

"Oh, really?" Shelby bites out.

"Look, ma'am," the woman continues, after taking another look at her screen. "There's only one more train leaving tonight and it's at full capacity. I can offer you something for tomorrow afternoon?"

Shelby feels her whole mouth go dry. This _cannot_ be happening; she can't let Rachel down like this.

"I need to get there tonight," she says. Most of the anger has seeped out of her voice, replaced instead by frantic desperation. "_Please_."

"I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can offer you tonight. Do you want the ticket for tomorrow, or not?"

"No, I… I need…" Shelby shakes her head, desperately trying to order her thoughts. "Do you have kids?" she tries.

The woman sits back in her seat. "Nope."

"Okay. Well, I do," Shelby starts. She once read somewhere that telling a shooter personal details about yourself makes it less likely that they'll try to kill you. While this situation is different, her level of distress feels pretty similar. "I have a daughter, Rachel, and it's her ninth birthday tomorrow. I promised her I would be there for it."

"Unless 'Rachel' is booked on that train and is willing to give up her ticket for you, that doesn't change anything," the woman says.

Shelby's face crumples, her eyes swinging shut. _Think_, she tells herself. _You have to think of something, of _anything,_ else. _

"Do you like musicals?" she blurts out.

The woman raises her eyebrows in a way that tells Shelby the question sounds just as stupid out loud as it had done in her head.

"Not really," she replies after a beat, "no."

Shelby grits her teeth. "Well, I'm in the Broadway revival of _Les Mis_, and if there's _any way_ you can get me on that train, I'll make sure you get two, free tickets. _Les Mis _is a classic! Everyone likes it!"

"My ex-boyfriend broke up with me during the intermission of _Les Mis._"

_You've got to be fucking _kidding _me?_

"I'm sorry to hear that," Shelby nods sympathetically. "But, hey, you know, this might be a great opportunity to attach some exciting, new memories to…" she trails off pathetically when the woman shakes her head darkly once more.

"Look, lady," she sighs. "You're holding up the line. Options are a ticket for the afternoon train tomorrow, or nothing. Take your pick."

Shelby leans against the outside wall of the station, taking the opportunity to smack her head against the brick, hard, several times. Her bag is tucked between her feet so her body can protect is from the downpour, but her jacket is slung over the crook of her elbow. The chill on her damp skin is nothing compared to way her insides are searing from sheer frustration.

None of this is _fair_. Nothing about it at all seems right and yet there's absolutely nothing she can do about it. Her heart aches with each dull thud and yearns for her daughter, for _all_ of the Berrys. This is why she should never have been complacent about living so far away from her family. Wave after wave of emotion hits her. Anger at this whole situation, sadness that this is the first of her daughter's birthdays she'll spend away from her, guilt over knowing that she'll ruin Rachel's whole birthday.

But nothing hits her like the anxiety. She knows that Hiram and Leroy will understand completely and she trusts that they'll try to convey that to their daughter. What she's most worried about, however, is Rachel's reaction. How long will she stay mad at her for? Will she even want to see her if she can get out there for Sunday? What happens if this is the thing that breaks Rachel's trust in her?

Their whole relationship sits on foundations that are somewhat precarious. Shelby leaves, but she always comes back. That's what they've all spent the past nine years trying to teach the young girl. And Shelby knows she's lucky: for all her hyperbole and dramatic tendencies, Rachel's always been incredibly mature and understanding about the whole situation. But this time feels different. She'd promised over and over again that she would be there; looking back now, it almost feels as though Rachel had some kind of premonition that things would not quite go to plan. Shelby's going to break her promise and she dreads to think what the consequences of that might be.

**iMessage**

**Friday, 22nd May**

**9:32 p.m.**

**_Hiram: _**_Don't worry, Shelbs. We know you did what you could to get here. Go home, get some rest. We'll tell Rach when she wakes up tomorrow and then maybe we can all call you in the evening? We love you._

**_Shelby_**_: I'm so sorry. Can I speak to her in the morning if she wants to? Please just tell her how much I love her and how sorry I am. I'm going to start looking at flights out tomorrow as soon I get home, so I can be there maybe tomorrow evening or Sunday morning if she still wants to see me? I love you too._

She sends the message through blurry vision and then resumes the attack of her head on the wall. Nothing's fair and everything hurts.

She's not sure how long she stands there for, letting the rain wash over her in a feeble attempt to feel some kind of relief, but she's drawn out of her stupor by the buzzing of her phone. Frowning when she sees April's face filling her screen, she answers it nervously.

"Hello?"

"Move over Cassandra July. Miss Shelby Corcoran, I am officially your new best friend forever."

"Let me get this straight," Shelby says, shaking her head in disbelief. "You want me to ride halfway across the country, overnight, in a _truck_ with the step-father of your one night stand?"

"Several things wrong there," April replies tightly. "First of all, you're not going halfway across the country, Shelbs. Stop being so dramatic. Secondly, Emmet's not a 'one night stand'. He's more of a… one day stand. And, boy, let me tell you, what a _day_ it's been!"

"April," she growls.

"Shelby," her friend counters right back. "Look, it sounds to me like you're not exactly swimming in options. Mike's leaving Yonkers at eleven and stopping in Columbus tomorrow morning. I know you're not exactly a spiritual person, Shelbs, but even you have to admit that this all seems kind of… I don't know… Fate-y?"

"Not a word."

"I don't care," April says. "Come on - I'll even send you an Uber to take you there as an apology for not telling you about the flights being grounded." She pauses. "You… uh… you said Hiram and Leroy agreed to pay for any travel expenses, right?"

"Right," Shelby confirms dryly. "Your generosity is astounding."

"Listen, I know how much being with Rachel on her birthday means to you - this is your chance to make sure that happens. So, are you in or out?"

Shelby lets out a deep sigh and pushes herself up off the wall. "Let me know when the Uber's here."

000

It feels way too much like the beginning of a _Criminal Minds_ episode for Shelby's liking. The rain is unrelenting, falling like thick bands of luminescent orange in the glow of the gaudy streetlight. It splatters down all over the nearly vacant parking lot and has seeped so far into her clothes that Shelby's not sure she can even recall what it feels like to be dry.

She's finally put her jacket on and wraps it tightly around herself, though the whipping wind keeps finding routes through the fabric and straight to her core. She almost feels like she should be anchoring herself to something solid, lest she get too caught up in it and whirled into the air. If a tornado could lift Dorothy's whole house up, she's sure a premature tropical storm could handle her without too much difficulty.

Oh to be able to click her heels together and magically be at home. She's not sure she's ever been quite so desperate for a way out like that one.

Instead of ruby slippers, her homebound miracle takes the form of rather beat-up looking semi; her good witch isn't descending from a bubble, but has just walked out of the nearby convenience store holding two bottles of Gatorade and a tube of BBQ Pringles.

_How the fuck is this real right now?_

Summoning up her last dregs of emotional control, she manages to give him a weak smile as he approaches. He looks a little worse for wear; there's a suspicious red stain on his plaid shirt that she _really_ hopes is ketchup and he's got a strong shadow of stubble around his chin. Despite all that, however, there's a warmth to his eyes as he smiles back at her.

"Shelby, right?" he asks, nodding at her. "I'm Mike."

"It's nice to meet you," Shelby forces out in her best 'please don't kill me and dump my body on the side of the road, but if you do at least make it quick' voice. It's only now that the thought occurs to her that it might just be _slightly_ more traumatic for Rachel to find out that her mother was brutally murdered on her ninth birthday, rather than her simply being unable to attend her party.

Still, there's no turning back now.

Shelby follows as Mike heads back to the truck, having to take twice the steps to match his long strides. She hikes her bag up on her shoulder and forces herself to push any and all nerves away. _It's for Rachel, _she reminds herself over and over on a loop in her head. _You're doing this for Rachel_.

"I don't bite, you know?" Mike says once Shelby's lowered herself into her seat. Despite his soft tone, her body still leaps a few inches into the air. "Or, maybe I do," the man laughs to himself.

Shelby catches his eye across the console and can't help the small smile which fights its way onto her face. "Sorry," she says, shaking her head, "it's not you. It's… Well, it's been a long day."

"Sounds like it," he replies. Shelby watches in fascination as he pushes and pokes at the buttons on the dashboard; she's not even sure what she's doing. Not for the first time today, she's thinking about how she should really get her driver's license. It was one of those things that had been pushed to the wayside around the pregnancy, the adoption, and struggling to plant her feet down in a world that kept relentlessly spinning. "You're going to see your kid, right? That's what the girl on the phone told me. April?"

"Huh?" Shelby's eyes jolt away from the brightly coloured buttons. "April, yeah," she replies. "And, yeah it's my daughter's ninth birthday tomorrow. I was meant to fly home earlier this evening, but well… As you can probably imagine, that didn't go as intended."

"Right," he laughs.

He cranks the truck into gear and begins to edge out of the empty parking lot. The whole console vibrates a little as he does this, but Shelby tries to allow herself to relax into the feeling; she's known the man for less than five minutes, but she really doesn't get the impression that he wants to hurt her.

"Now don't take this the wrong way," he starts when they're out on the main street, "but you really don't look old enough to have a nine-year-old daughter."

"Sometimes I don't feel like it, either," Shelby says with a shrug. "I was young when I had her, but I don't know… I feel like she really put me on the right path, you know?"

"Sure," he replies. "So does she live with your parents in Ohio, or…?"

"God, no," she laughs. "No, not at all. She's adopted. She… uh…" Shelby glances over at him cautiously, trying to read him. For better or for worse, she decides to take her chances. "She was adopted by two guys from my town who, and I'm not even exaggerating, are the best men in the world."

"Oh?" Mike peers up at her, intrigued. "They let you be in her life, then?"

"Yeah," she says, a familiar, warm smile creeping up on her lips. "In fact, I should probably call them, let them know I'm on my way home."

The conversation goes about as well as one may expect. After several minutes of blurred explanations (it's hard to explain when she doesn't really understand herself how she got in this situation) and a quick interview with Mike over the speakerphone to convince Hiram that the man is not going to be featured on the next episode of _20/20_, Shelby agrees to send them half-hourly updates on her location.

"I swear to God, Shelbs," Hiram sighs. "One of these days you're going to give me a heart attack."

"I love you too," she replies in her most saccharine tone.

"You better."

Once she's hung up, she settles down in the seat a little more, trying to get comfortable. She's going to be here for a while.

"Kind of felt like I was talking to _your_ dad there," Mike comments after a few moments. "I see what you mean about them being good guys."

Shelby smirks fondly. "Right. I get that a lot, actually." She rolls her eyes. "They've definitely scared off enough potential boyfriends to get that role."

"I can imagine," he laughs.

When they're out on the interstate, with the rain drumming rhythmically down on the roof of the console and the passing cars sending intermittent beams of light through the windows, Shelby finds her eyes beginning to swing shut. She blinks heavily and forces herself to sit up; she can't be quite _that_ stupid. For several, long minutes, she tries futilely to fight against the weight of her own neck as it continually lolls downwards.

"You can sleep, if you want to, you know?" Mike tells her after she jolts back to her senses for maybe the fifteenth time. "We've got a long drive ahead of us and I doubt you're going to be able to stay awake for the whole time."

"No, it's-" Shelby's cut off by a yawn forcing its way out. Mike sends her a knowing look. "Okay, maybe I should sleep."

"I'll take over texting Hiram - was it? - for you," he offers, nodding at Shelby's phone which is laying on top of the dashboard.

"Yeah," Shelby nods, her eyes already beginning to close again. "Yeah, that would be great thank you."

Mike wakes her up twice to make bathroom trips. On her return back to the truck on the second occasion, she finds a yogurt and banana waiting in her seat.

"Oh," she says, looking up at him gratefully, "you shouldn't have. It's fine - I'm not even that hungry. You can-"

Mike shakes his head and holds up her phone. "Hiram's orders."

The third time he gently shakes her shoulder, she blinks groggily and is vaguely aware of the fact that they're still moving. Her eyes sting when the bright daylight overwhelms them too suddenly and she grunts softly, immediately reaching a hand back to rub out the dull ache in the back of her neck.

"Morning," Mike greets her, holding out a bottle of water which she accepts with a grateful nod. "We're about ten minutes out of Columbus."

"Already?" Shelby asks. She pours some of the water into her mouth and swills it around, trying to remove the pungent, stale taste lingering there. "What time is it?"

"It's almost eleven," he replies. He lets out a laugh when her face contorts in disbelief. "Yeah, time flies when you sleep for the whole journey."

"I'm sorry," she says sheepishly. "I'm such crap company."

"Crap company is better that no company at all."

"Do you really think that?" she asks, pushing herself forwards so that she can stretch out her back. This, too, wishes her good morning with a resounding crack.

"No, I guess not," Mike smirks. "Still, you weren't crap, exactly. You were just…"

"Unconscious?"

"Yeah, that's right." Eyes still on the road ahead, he takes her phone off the dashboard and hands it over to her. "But your friend Cassie called about half an hour ago - said she wasn't going to put up with that in her car so I thought I better wake you up."

"Thanks," Shelby says. She flicks through her notifications, finding nothing of particular importance, and opens her Messages app to update Hiram. Soon, she finds she needn't bother.

**iMessage**

**Saturday, 23rd May**

**10:43 a.m.**

**_Shelby: _**_About 30 mins out of columbus. still asleep. will wake her up soon. _

**_Hiram_**_: Perfect- thank you for letting me know. And thank you for taking such good care of our girl._

**_Shelby_**_: no problem. shes great._

Shelby's heart completes a little flutter, a large smile blossoming across her face, in sheer gratitude. It's something that's become a lot easier over the past few years, but she really does actively work everyday to remind herself that the world is full of good people. It's just about coming across them at the right time.

When Mike pulls into the rest stop he and Cassie had agreed upon, Shelby collects up her belongings, biting down on her lip and trying to figure out how to even go about beginning to thank the man.

"All set?"

"Yeah," she nods. "I… I can't quite… I don't think you know how much this means to me. My daughter, Rachel, she… I promised her I would be there today, and, if it weren't for you, I would have broken that promise. _Thank you_."

"It's nothing," he shrugs. "I was passing through anyway."

"No," Shelby says, shaking her head. Suddenly, she finds herself launching her body across the console and wrapping her arms arms tightly around him. She's never been much of a hugger, but this is the only way she can think to impress her gratitude upon him. "Thank you _so_ much. I don't know how I can ever repay you… I-I'll never forget this."

Mike gradually relaxes into the embrace, bringing up one arm to pat her back fondly. "It's okay. Just pay it forward when you can, I guess."

"Right." Shelby nods. _Pay it forward when you can._

Across the parking lot, a horn blares. At the same time, Shelby's phone buzzes with an incoming text.

_Wrap it up, Corcoran. We don't have all day._

"Enjoy the party," Mike says, giving her a wave. "And tell Rachel I say happy birthday."

"I will," Shelby laughs before smiling genuinely at him again. "Thank you."

"Jesus," Cassie groans when Shelby climbs into her passenger seat. "You look like absolute crap." She sniffs the air cautiously before shuddering and pinching her nose. "You _smell_ like absolute crap."

"Always a pleasure to see you too, Cass."

The blonde recoils when Shelby leans across to kiss her cheek and immediately wipes at the spot with her sleeve.

"There's gum and deodorant in the glove compartment," she says pointedly. "Might be nicer for everyone if you think about using them."

"You always take such good care of me," Shelby hums sweetly.

Cassie simply rolls her eyes. "Let's go. This place is giving me the creeps."

000

The grandfather clock in the Berrys' living room chimes three o'clock. Though it's barely audible over the roaring music filling the entire first story of the house, Rachel hears it. Her eyes shoot up and she watches the minute-hand click into place with a sigh. Her party had started three hours ago now; they only have another thirty minutes before her friends' parents will be arriving to collect them all. She glances out of the window and can't help the pout that forms on her face.

_Stupid rain! _

She was supposed to be having a _huuuuuge_ disco party in her backyard, complete with a DJ booth, a real dance floor and big flashing lights. She'd been teaching everyone the choreography for the dances she wanted to do during recess for _weeks_ now. And the stupid rain has ruined it all. The guy hiring out the equipment (and acting as DJ) had called her daddy last night to say that he couldn't set all the equipment up with the rain being this bad. So, with a heavy heart and _lots_ of pouting, Rachel had reluctantly agreed that they could host the party indoors.

It's not even that which is really bothering her. Jesse (her new friend from her ballet class) has been excellent at helping her keep everyone on track with their dancing and, with the furniture all pushed to the sides and the large rug rolled up, the living room floor is a satisfactory makeshift dance floor. All in all, she would say she's pretty pleased with how her party has played out. There's really just one thing missing.

Her mom _still_ isn't here.

The initial pang of disappointment she'd felt earlier when she woke up and learned that her mom wasn't already sleeping in her bed in the next room had been quelled by her dads' assurance that she was on her way and doing everything she could to make sure she was there for the party. Then, just as all of Rachel's guests were arriving, her dad had received a phone call. The girl, who had been in the middle of showing everyone exactly where to leave their shoes and explaining the contents of the snack table, felt her ears prick up when she heard the name 'Shelbs' leave her dad's mouth.

He'd called her over a couple of minutes later to gently explain that her mom and Aunt Cass were stuck in traffic, and weren't sure when they would be arriving. Rachel had glared out of the window at the rain again then, cursing it for ruining her birthday.

"Rachel?"

She tears her gaze away from the clock at the sound of her name and looks up to see Jesse standing in front of her with an outstretched hand.

"Dance with me?" he asks, shooting her a broad smile. "We're clearly the best here - it's up to us to show everyone else how it's done."

Rachel lets her eyes survey the room. Some of her friends from school are twirling each other around without any respect for the beat of the song. Her friends from dance classes are faring only marginally better. She briefly wonders whether she should record this for her teachers so they'll know what to work on with them next week. The adults (her dads and some of their friends) are standing near the door to the kitchen. Her daddy has his arms around her dad's waist and they're both slowly step-touching. Rachel scrunches up her nose; the only good thing she can really say about that is that they're at least synchronised in time.

Yet again, she wishes that her mom would hurry up and get here. She's the only one who can really dance as well as Rachel.

"Rach?" Jesse says, waving his hand in front of her face until she looks up. "Ready to dance?"

With a grin, she nods and takes his hand into hers. Her mom may not be here yet, but that doesn't mean she should deprive everyone of a good show.

Fifteen minutes later, her and Jesse finish (yet another) well improvised routine to a light smattering of applause. She stays by his side, allowing him to guide her into a deep bow, until she feels a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Star?" her daddy says. "Can I borrow you for a minute?"

She nods and follows him to the corner of the room where he squats to meet her at eye-level.

"Are you having fun, honey?" he asks and brushes some of slightly sweaty hair from the side of her face. She nods eagerly, still catching her breath from that last number. "Good," he smiles. "We're going to do your birthday cake in a minute, okay? So why don't we turn the music down for a little bit?"

Rachel's face falls. "No, Daddy!" she protests quickly. "You said we could wait until Mom and Aunt Cass get here to do the cake!"

He sighs sadly. "I know I did, Star, but your friends will be getting collected soon and we need to make sure we can fit it in."

"B-but," Rachel sucks in a shaky breath as her bottom lip begins to tremble. "But Mom's not here yet."

"I know," he says again, matching her sad expression. "And even though she's coming as fast as she can, she might not be here for a while. So we need to do it now so that all your friends can sing to you and have some cake to take home with them, okay?"

"Okay," she agrees sadly.

"Tell you what," her daddy says, "I'll run to the store once everyone's gone and we'll get you another cake. Then later tonight Mom, Dad and I can sing to you again, yeah?"

Rachel wants to say that that won't work because it just won't be the _same_. Every year, she always looks forwards to the looks on her friends' faces when they hear her mom sing happy birthday to her. But now she looks at the almost pleading expression on her daddy's face, and decides not to throw a fit over this.

She's nine now. She has to be grown up.

"Yeah," she says, using her best acting skills. "That will be good, Daddy."

Rachel spends the entirety of the next five minutes staring out of the window, crossing all of her fingers and wishing on every gold star there ever was that she'll see her aunt's car pull into the driveway. She barely listens to Jesse, who's sitting next to her and talking non-stop about Broadway. It only makes the sick feeling in her stomach hurt more; they were meant to be talking about Broadway together to her mom. She was going to answer all of their questions.

Before she knows it, she's been sat down on the couch, the lights are out, and there's a blurry light coming towards her. She knows it wouldn't be so blurry if there weren't tears beginning to sting at her eyes. As the song progresses and her dad holds the cake up in front of her, she forces them away. Nobody wants to see her crying at her own party.

"Make a wish, Star," her dad whispers when the song ends.

She sucks in a heavy breath and definitely doesn't have to think twice about the wish she wants to make.

"Rachel Barbra Berry, you better not blow out those candles!"

In her gasp of surprise, a couple of the flames flicker dangerously, but all nine candles remain alight. She looks up towards the door of the living room and immediately a huge grin breaks out across her face.

"_Mom!_"

She hardly notices her dad having to haul the cake out of her path as she slips down from the couch and sprints across the room. Immediately, she leaps up into her mother's arms and feels herself being lifted up off the floor. Her legs wrap themselves snugly around the woman's waist.

Her mom rocks her from side-to-side for a long moment, both of them squeezing the other as tightly as they can.

"Well, hello there, Star," her mom whispers in her ear before planting a kiss on her cheek.

If possible, Rachel squeezes even tighter, nestling in close and breathing in her mom's scent. She doesn't smell how she normally does. Usually, her mom smells _so_ flowery - like perfume and shampoo and sometimes like baking. Now, she smells like Rachel's leotards after a long dance class, but with some kind of not-so nice sweetness over the top. The girl doesn't really mind, though. Her mom's here; that's all that matters.

"Mommy," she breathes, pulling back a little so she can look up at her mother's smiling face. "You're really here."

"I'm really here," her mom agrees. Like her dads always do, she reaches up to tap Rachel's nose. "Boop. I missed you, Star."

"I missed you too," Rachel nods vigorously. "_Soooooo_ much."

"'_Soooooo _much'? That sounds like a lot."

"It is, Mom."

"Oh, yeah," a voice says from next to them, "and I'm here too, by the way."

Rachel looks over at the blonde woman, still grinning broadly. "Aunt Cass!" She begins to squirm to be put down. Halfway through this motion, however, she stops and looks back up at her mom. "Will you hold me again later?" she whispers, keeping her tone low so that nobody else will hear.

"For as long as you want, baby," her mom whispers back.

As Rachel lands on the floor and moves to hug her aunt, she thinks that she would quite like her mom to hold her forever and ever.

"Are you sure you're nine, squirt?" Aunt Cassie asks, frowning down at her. "You don't look big enough."

Rachel frowns right back at her. "_Yes_, I'm sure. I'm just short!"

"Whatever you say…"

"Leave her alone, Cassandra," her mom says, pulling her back into her side. "Rachel's perfectly formed."

Rachel nods firmly into her mom's sweatshirt. _Perfectly formed - that sounds about right._ She squeezes tightly once more, before remembering that she's doing this in front of all her party guests. Her stomach clenches for a second; she hadn't invited any of the meaner kids from school, but she's not always sure who she can trust.

Nevertheless, she straightens herself up slightly and grabs her mom's hand. The two of them can perform for _any_ audience, it's just what they do, and Rachel knows it's time to put that attribute to work.

"If I could have your attention please," she announces to the room, taking a deep breath and waiting until they're all looking at her before she continues, "For those of you who don't know, this is my mom. I know that your parents will be here soon, but because it's my birthday, I'd really like it if you could all sing for me again. My mom is a Broadway actress and so I know some of you," she smiles at Jesse, "would really like to hear her sing. For those of you who found it hard to stay on key last time, just follow my mom - she knows what she's doing."

She looks up when she hears laughing and sees all three of her parents attempting to stifle their chuckles.

"What?" she asks, pouting.

"Nothing, Rach," her mom assures her quickly, squeezing her hand. She then turns to the two men. "Well, you heard the woman, Hiram. Time for cake round two."

000

"So you just practice with a piano at first? And then they add the rest of the orchestra later?"

"Yeah, honey. We wouldn't all fit in the room if everyone was there with their instruments. You don't want me to get squished, do you?"

Rachel shakes her head quickly, her dark hair tickling the underside of Shelby's chin. They're both leaning up against the headboard of Shelby's bed. Like always, Rachel had been quick to ask her mother whether they could sleep together in there, and it wasn't like Shelby had needed much persuasion.

She pulls her little girl closer into her body, relishing in her warmth and the softness of her pink pajamas. Rachel's been rattling off various Broadway questions for the last hour that they've been lying in bed. Hanging off her every word and gazing up at her like the sun shines out from her face, Shelby can't say she minds at all.

One hug from Rachel and she knew that everything had been worth it. It would _always_ be worth it. She'd fight off any number of opponents to grab the last cab in the pouring rain, stand in train stations for days without food or water, and ride in any number of unfamiliar trucks just to make it home to her daughter.

"You know what that means then, Mom?" Rachel says, grinning at her.

"What?"

"That you need smaller actors who can fit in tiny spaces!"

"Oh, yeah?" Shelby asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes!" Rachel nods. "For example, _I_ am a small actor who would be _perfect_ for the role of young Cosette." Shelby rolls her eyes. _Here we go…_ "We've got it all worked out, Mom! Next year, you'll be playing Fantine full-time, and Jesse will play Gavroche and I'll be young Cosette. It's going to be _ah-may-zing!_"

Shelby shakes her head slightly as she gazes down at her girl. Still, she really hopes that Rachel never loses that spark; her kid is the most special one in the whole world.

"That sounds great, honey," she placates, rubbing her hand up and down Rachel's back.

The girl is silent for a moment. She tucks her head into the crook of Shelby's neck and interlocks their fingers, watching as she moves their joined hands through the air.

"I can't believe you're here," she finally whispers.

"Why?" Shelby smiles. "I said I would be here and I am."

_If only it had been that easy._

Rachel shifts to look up into her eyes. "I know, but Daddy said that your plane got cancelled because there was a big storm, and then you couldn't get on the train. But you're _here_."

"I know," Shelby says, leaning down to kiss her nose. "It's because I promised you I would be, Star, and I never, ever go back on a promise."

"Never ever?" the girl asks, eyes wide.

"Never ever," Shelby tells her. She reaches her hands around Rachel's waist and begins to tickle her sides. "Never ever ever ever ever ever ever ev-"

"_Mommy_!" she groans, reaching up to cover her mother's mouth with her hand. "Stop."

Shelby laughs as she easily pries the small hand away from her face, kissing the girl's knuckles on the way down. "I thought I was cool, Rach," she pouts. "Am I not cool anymore?"

"Not when you do that." Rachel shoots her a small glare as she twists her pajama top back into place. "So, how _did_ you get here?

The woman matches her quizzical expression. Now _that's_ a long story. "Well," she starts, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "I grew wings and I flew all the way over here to be with you.

"Mom!" Rachel whines, sitting up to face her. "I'm not a _baby_ \- I know you can't grow wings."

"Oh yeah? Well how else did I get here?" When Rachel simply shrugs, Shelby nods firmly. "See! You don't know because I grew wings and I flew. Now," she lowers her voice to a whisper, "this is supposed to be a secret, but I think I can trust you not to tell anyone else, right, Rach?"

"Right."

"Okay," Shelby says, levelling her gaze with the girl. "So when Mommies get separated from their babies on their birthdays, they get special superpowers that means they can grow wings so that they can always find their way back to them."

Rachel frowns. "Hmmm. I don't believe you, but I love you."

"Yeah?" Shelby asks. "Well I love you the very most."

"Mom! You skipped 'more'!" the girl pouts. "Then I'm supposed to be most!"

"Sorry, kid. Sometimes life's not fair." Rachel crosses her arms petulantly, but Shelby can tell she's fighting back a smile. She gently pulls the girl back onto her chest and kisses the top of her head. "But you know what you can count on, Rach? That no matter how far away I go, or how long I'm away for, I will always, _always_ come back to you, my love. Sometimes it might take me a little longer than expected, or be a little harder, but you and me? We'll always find our way back to each other."

"You promise?"

"Yeah, Star, I promise."

"Okay good," Rachel says, nestling further into her chest. "So you're saying that some things, some people, are always meant to find their way to the right spot?"

"That's exactly right, my love," Shelby says. "And my right spot is always going to be here with you."

"Yeah, me too," Rachel replies. She pauses as she fiddles with the edge of her mom's shirt. "_Buuuuut_, I think my other right spot might be playing young Cosette on Broadway. Don't ya think, Mom?"

* * *

_**Thank you for reading- I hope you enjoyed! Stay safe everyone. Remember- Shelby Corcoran says wearing a mask is cool.**_

_**xo**_


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